


Super Spies in Love

by WeMadeMonsters



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Nat and Sharon are perfect, Nat and Sharon are tired, Nat and Sharon get along, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), a collection of one shot fics, super spy games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeMadeMonsters/pseuds/WeMadeMonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did Steve kiss you any better than he kissed me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Spies in Love

**Author's Note:**

> a collection of little fics I wrote and posted on tumblr, and wanted to collect together. inspired by the idea that marvel should hire me to write a buddy-spy-wlw film about Nat and Sharon post civil war.

“Did Steve kiss you any better than he kissed me?” 

They’re in Austria, breaking into the file room for the Federal Council. The plan is to take a few files, and leave them in Latvia. To which their plane leaves in three hours… Natasha thought it was funny to get them a discount by claiming to be newlyweds. Sharon has long since forgotten why the file thing is so funny, only that it is funny. She’s a little drunk. She’s been a little drunk, since Poland at least. 

She continues to work the lock, funny after all that security on the other levels, the file room just had a six point pin tumbler lock. Wait, Steve? And kissing? She stops what she’s doing and turns her head back to look at Nat. 

Oh, that. Before the mess at the airport. Of course the little spider knows about that; if anything is worth knowing, Nat knows about it. She’s not sure about how she feels that Natasha thought that was worth knowing about. 

“Dunno.” Sharon snorts, turns back to the lock. “Did you kiss Steve better than you kiss me?” 

Natasha laughs, nudging her with her foot and lovingly calling her a dumbass in Russian. Well, as lovingly as you can call someone a dumbass anyway. 

\----------

When you torpedo your own career because you believe in a guy with a jaw line as much as your aunt… Technically, when you torpedo your career for the second time when you still have a scar on your arm from the first time (and to be six drinks honest, when you’re glad the guy who did it got imploded or fried or magicked to the negaverse or whatever) you don’t expect to end up in the Ukraine, in a shitty motel, being six drinks honest with the Black Widow while she crazy dances to some junk on the radio. Okay, sure, the first time there was a lot going on behind the scenes that would have resulted in a non-career anyway. And okay, maybe that was also the case the second time… 

Still. 

Nat’s on the bed, dancing in her underwear because that was Sharon’s dare, because six drinks in all the dares are either sexy or stupid, or both. Before this, Sharon had to crack open the suite’s safe without breaking it (child’s-play), Nat had to steal all of the spare room keys without the clerk noticing, Sharon had to moon a cabbie, and on and on and on. Natasha doesn’t want to talk about the airport, and Sharon doesn’t want to talk about what happened before it, so this is working for them.

Or maybe acting like a teenager was what you’re supposed to do when you torpedo your own career (for technically, the second time). Natasha collapses on the bed beside her, laughing and out of breath, almost making her spill the rest of her drink (gasoline and fruit punch, judging by the taste of it). 

“What song was that?” 

“Like I know.” Sharon’s giggling too now, trying to right herself while keeping the can upright. 

“You picked the station!” 

Sharon uprights herself right onto Nat, and they kiss. Again. That had been a dare too, somewhere back along the line, and it’s as nice the second time as it was the first. Soft and sweet and boozy, not like a guy with a jaw kisses you at all. Especially when he just thinks he’s supposed to. 

She leaves her head on Natasha’s chest after, listening to her heart slow, and she uses her fingers to push the can all the way onto the nightstand. Not that another stain would matter in this room, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Suddenly, Natasha is giggling again. 

“Oh my god.” 

“What?” 

“We should… No. I dare you. I dare you to steal some… Some fucking… State secrets from the Ukraine.” 

“And do what with them?” Sharon tilts her head, kissing across Nat’s chest and sighing softly, trying not to laugh just because she’s laughing. 

“Don’t start with me. I just mean like, what if you took some. Just because you could now.” 

“I could.” 

“And…” Sharon can tell Natasha is struggling not to collapse into non-verbal laughter. “And… Just… Fucking left them. On the desk. Of the Polish prime minister.” 

“On Beata Szydło’s desk.” 

“On fucking Beata Szydło’s desk with a stickie note stuck to them that says… I don’t fucking know!” 

Then Natasha really is laughing, and Sharon’s laughing too, because they’re both done. They’re done doing things for guys with jaws, for good looking guys who want to plant themselves like trees and watch everyone else implode in their wake. So why not?

\----------

Nat fought like a ballerina. That sounded like it should be an insult, but it wasn’t. Every move was beautiful, and Sharon almost felt her telling a story with her limbs when she broke the nose of the human trafficker they’d targeted. She could see her taking every shot, as if her graceful spins could absorb the pain and pass it back, from one side of her body to the other, released through the bottom of her foot to crack another one of the thugs’ collarbone. 

If the ballet she’d been exposed to as a child had been more like this, she might have listened when her mother begged her to stay in her after-school classes. 

Sharon fought like a cage match. She was a precise fighter, having trained for years, and could almost count a perfect one, two- between each exact strike. Every fight was to be treated like a championship match, only with respect or advancement or praise the reward instead of prize money. Which was almost better. 

They were both fighting like they were showing off. Sure, scrubbing some scum off the face of the earth was certainly more noble than breaking into capital buildings, but that wasn’t the mission. There weren’t any more missions, for either of them. There was only wanting. Wanting and flirting and exploring past the personal bonds and boundaries set as ‘career-ending’ that she was finally ready to let go of. 

\----------

Natasha and Sharon go to Paris when they're bored of skipping around Europe and causing harmless mayhem. 

"Wanda's in Wakanda?" 

"With Steve and the rest of his team." Natasha confirms. They're both wearing extravagant hats and dresses. In Paris, keeping a low profile means dressing up to the nines for brunch on the Seine. 

"She's safe there, you think?" 

"I wouldn't have left her there if she wasn't." Natasha smiles, linking her pinky finger with Sharon's. "Not even for you."


End file.
